


And Human/Platypus Hybrid Makes Three

by Sarcophagus



Category: Milo Murphy's Law
Genre: Fluff and Humor, Friendship/Love, Gen, Kid Fic, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:00:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22036711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarcophagus/pseuds/Sarcophagus
Summary: Dakota meets someone who shouldn't exist.
Relationships: Balthazar Cavendish & Vinnie Dakota
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	And Human/Platypus Hybrid Makes Three

Dakota wasn't expecting anything terrible to happen that day. It was a nice sunny day. He'd bought season passes to the city zoo and now he was going back to the office with takeout for himself and Cavendish. Everything was roses in Dakotaworld.

His good mood lasted until he entered their office. The first thing he saw was a cloth-covered cage resting on the coffee table, with his partner watching the cage as if it was going to explode.

"Whatcha got there?" Dakota asked, raising the cloth. Then he dropped the cloth and the bag of takeout with a yell.

Huge, glassy eyes stared back at him out of a fishbelly-white face. A _thing_ with a humanoid head, the lower body of an animal and the thousand-mile stare of a creature from the abyss. No mistake possible: this was the unholy fusion of baby platypus and aging human that he last saw on board the Octalian spaceship.

"GAH! The spawn of the abomination!" He whirled around. "What's it doing here?"

Cavendish waved his hands. He looked a little flustered and a lot tense. "Hush! Don't set it off! I've been trying to make it go to sleep. The cover doesn't seem to be working."

"Uh, that's parrots," Dakota said. "Again, why?"

" _Because_ ," Cavendish hissed, "Doofenshmirtz asked us to babysit."

"And you couldn't say no to your crush." In the other, better world Dakota was living in one minute ago the fact would've been prime teasing material. Now he'd been sidetracked by the sheer insanity of leaving Cavendish with that horror from the pit, or leaving a baby with Cavendish, whichever.

"I do not have a crush! I grew up admiring the man's genius, is all."

"Me too," Dakota said. "That's why I'm wearing Professor Time underpants. Wait, no, that's you." Turns out this world worked a lot like the previous one.

Cavendish glowered. Dakota got back on track. "I got an idea. How about you call Doof and tell him to take his offense against nature somewhere that's not here, then we'll eat."

"I made a commitment!"

"Look," Dakota said, "I've hung out with Doof more than you have. There are rules. Rule one, don't ever make --"

Something hit the floor with a tinkling metal sound. The cloth on the cage fluttered. They both looked at each other with slowly dawning dread. Then Dakota reached out and yanked the cloth aside.

The cage was empty. One of the bars lay on the floor, sliced through cleanly at both ends.

"How on earth...?" Cavendish stuttered. "Those are solid steel bars!"

Dakota looked around nervously. "Maybe it's got adamantium claws. Or maybe it shoots laser beams from its eyes. If you've got any genetic enhancements it might've inherited, now's a good time to tell me."

"Don't be silly," Cavendish said. "I'm sure if the creature were such a menace as all that, Doof would have warned me." He sounded anything but sure.

Instinctively they drew together until they were standing back to back. Moving in sync, they turned and scanned the room in all directions. Everything was quiet. There was no sign of the monster, but it had to be here. Dakota could feel those pale eyes watching him.

"Do you see it?"

"Shh! I can hear something." Dakota held his breath, listening. Yes, there was a scraping noise, like small sharp teeth gnawing on a bone. Somewhere around... his desk?

He tiptoed towards the desk with Cavendish behind him. Very carefully he leaned across the desk and looked down. 

The creature stood on his chair with its head and front paws in an open drawer, burrowing through his cookie stash.

"Hey!" Dakota cried. The monster let out a gurgling snarl, wiped a few crumbs from its mustache and darted away, quick as a lizard. He only just spotted the tip of its orange tail vanishing under the couch.

Dakota was fuming. "Look what he did! He ate the filling out of my sandwich cookies! Oh, it's _on_."

He grabbed a mop and threw Cavendish an umbrella. Cavendish didn't look grateful. "A brolly? Oh yes, that'll work a treat against adamantium claws."

"Don't worry," Dakota said. "Laser beams are way more likely. Here's the plan. I flush him out, you umbrella him, we duck tape the cage and return to sender."

"Well, did you see where he went?"

Dakota was about to say yes, then he had a better idea. "Uh, no, I totally didn't. Definitely not under the couch." He winked at his partner, elbowed him and pointed to the couch.

Cavendish got it. "Oh dear, wherever can he be," he said, hefting his umbrella with grim determination. Dakota sidled towards the couch. "On three," he mouthed. "One two three go!"

He thrust the mop under the couch and started raking around. As he'd hoped, that got the monster moving. It skittered aside, then shot out from under the couch. Cavendish gave a yelp. "Did you get it?" Dakota asked eagerly, straightening up.

Cavendish had a bite mark on his hand, but the monster was struggling and squirming in the crook of the umbrella handle.

"Great! I'll," Dakota said, and the creature wriggled free. Evading Dakota's grab, it leaped onto the couch, ran up the back and just kept going.

"He's climbing the wall!" Cavendish blurted. The thing ignored him, focused on reaching the ceiling. Its claws left tiny dents in the paneling.

"I didn't know you could do that," Dakota said, equally shocked.

Cavendish huffed. "Why do you assume he gets it from me?"

"Platypuses can't climb walls. Hang on!" Dakota ran to fetch a butterfly net. "Keep it away from the ventilation system or we're screwed!" To be honest he couldn't have said why or how they'd be screwed, but that's how things always went down in the movies.

The thing had figured out it couldn't escape through the ceiling. It was heading for the locker in the far corner of the room, the one that used to contain a direct line to BOTT. Cavendish waved his arms and shooed, trying to head it off. Dakota brought down the butterfly net just as the creature jumped. He caught Cavendish. The creature landed on the floor and ran off.

"In my defense," Dakota said as Cavendish untangled himself, "he looks more like you than any kid ought to look, ever."

Cavendish threw the net on the floor. "For future reference, I'm the one who's more than seventeen inches tall!"

"He's gotta be hungry from all this running around," Dakota mused. "What we need is bait." He looked around and spotted the takeout bag. "Bingo!"

"Don't you think a small child would rather have milk?" Cavendish asked pointedly, smoothing his ruffled hair.

"Yeah, we're out. Are you lactating right now? Then he's getting takeout." Dakota chowed down on a deep fried jumbo shrimp and marched in the direction the creature had run.

The thing had gone to ground under the couch again. It was curled up against the wall, as far from Dakota as it could get. Dakota held out an egg roll. After all the kid was part Cavendish.

"Here, boy. You are a boy, right?"

Blank stare. The dust was tickling his nose. He sniffed reflexively and the creature flinched. Dakota realized it may be more scared of him than he was of it. He was starting to feel bad about the mop chase.

"Hey. Hey, it's okay, buddy. You want an egg roll?"

"No!" the kid said, startling him. "No, no, no!" He snatched the egg roll out of Dakota's hand and gobbled it in two bites.

"Good heavens," Cavendish said behind him. "He sounds exactly like you as a toddler."

"It's a kid thing," Dakota said, squashing a sudden doubt. He didn't think Doofenshmirtz would've helped himself to any of his DNA without asking. Probably.

Coaxing the kid out from under the couch took two more egg rolls, but then he came forth, clutching Dakota's pinky with his tiny hand. Dakota brushed dust bunnies off of him and sat him on the couch. They all stared at each other.

Cavendish broke the ice. "We got off on the wrong foot, didn't we? Let's start over. Hello there, my name's Cavendish."

"Dakota," said Dakota. The kid tilted his head and looked at them as if they were idiots.

Cavendish sighed. "It's no use. The child can't communicate properly at his age."

The kid turned towards him. "Can," he said. "Ditz."

"You see? Nothing but random words."

Dakota broke into a grin. "No no, he's trying to say Cavenditz! Nice try, kid. Can you say Dakota?"

"Dolt," the kid answered without hesitation. Cavendish's mustache twitched.

"You're right. Random," Dakota said. He got a jumbo shrimp from the bag. The kid tilted his head again and somehow managed an enormous pair of pale bulging puppy eyes. It was cute and creepy at the same time. Dakota dangled the shrimp in front of him. "Let's have _your_ name, buddy."

There was no response. Dakota couldn't hold out against the platypuppy eyes. He yielded the shrimp.

"I don't believe he's got one," Cavendish said. "Doof referred to him as Cavenpus Junior." He pronounced the words with chilly distaste. Dakota couldn't deny that was sad even from the man who came up with 'Balloony II'. 

"We could name him," he suggested. "Soon as we figure out his abilities."

Cavendish was annoyed. "Stop talking about the child as if he were a supervillain. He didn't break out of his cage, adamantium claws or no. It was already broken. Look." He showed Dakota the loose bar. There was a piece of Scotch tape stuck to one end.

"It's one of Perry's old traps," Dakota realized. "Doof just --" He checked the other end. "Not even duck tape."

"No."

They pondered the mystery of Doofenshmirtz's mental workings in silence. The nameless, superpowerless child kept on eating his way through the contents of the takeout bag.

///

Dakota crouched on all fours, hissing up a steam. He was a fire-breathing dragon, or maybe a cat, trying to get past a wall of Jenga blocks defended by a ferocious guard puppy. The puppy got up in his face and yapped. When Dakota jumped back dramatically, Cavenkid knocked over a section of the wall in his excitement. Dakota scooped the blocks back in place. Cavenkid knocked them down on purpose, giggling. "Again!"

"The resemblance is uncanny," Cavendish remarked, watching them from his office chair.

"To me as a toddler?"

"To you, full stop."

Cavenkid kicked down the rest of the wall and danced on the ruins. Dakota pulled him off the debris. "Okay, time for a nap."

"No!" Cavenkid said on cue.

Dakota had dealt with stubborn kids before. The trick was thinking laterally. "Lemme tell you a secret. Somewhere on this ceiling there's a stain that looks like a bat," he lied. "Anyone who finds it gets to skip his nap. Starting... now!"

He lay down on the floor with his face to the ceiling. Cavenkid did the same. Dakota counted to one hundred in his head, then he got up. The kid was asleep.

"I can't believe that worked," Cavendish said, sounding equally amazed as Dakota at how fast the energy levels in the room had plummeted.

"He's overtired." Dakota laid the sleeper on the couch and covered him with a thick fluffy bath towel. It was nearly as warm as a blanket and easier to clean in case he puked up the chicken wings.

Cavenkid squinted up at him, then closed his eyes. They weren't ice blue like he'd thought, but blue-green, the same pretty color as Cavendish's eyes. Dakota drew the towel up to his chin and tucked it around him.

"How 'bout Vinthazar?" he said. "After me and you."

Cavendish looked baffled. "After you? You're no more than his fellow vertebrate."

"His honorary uncle vertebrate," Dakota corrected him.

"Uncle to the spawn of the abomination, are we?" Cavendish asked with mild sarcasm.

Spawn of the abomination? Who'd call a kid... oh, right. Dakota huffed out a breath. He sat down next to the sleeping Cavenkid and rested his elbows on his knees.

"Look, I overreacted. It's just, that whole human-platypus cloning deal was part of the worst time of my life. The kid popping up hit a nerve. But he's just a kid. He's okay." A genetically modified clone kid with retractable claws, but that was okay too.

He hoped Cavendish would bypass the danger point, but of course he didn't. "The worst time of your life? You mean..."

"When you went rogue. Yeah."

They talked about it exactly once, before Octalia. Dakota forgave Cavendish because what're you gonna do, and then things went back to normal. They were back together. They moved on, like always.

Cavendish seemed to be waiting for him to go on. Dakota said nothing. 

"I shouldn't have lost my temper," Cavendish said finally. "But after I reported the UFO kidnapping and Mr. Block all but laughed in my face, it was upsetting to have you doubt my sanity as well."

Dakota tried that on for size. It didn't sound like him. "I don't remember that," he said and found a pocket of bitterness he didn't know he had left. "Maybe because you wiped my memory."

"I had to!" Cavendish's voice rose. Dakota glanced quickly at the kid. "Don't you see, it was the only way Block would believe you weren't complicit. You were afraid we'd lose our jobs. And I --" He bowed his head. "I was afraid you'd come to harm if you tried to go after me."

It made sense, sort of. When their boss found out what Cavendish did he didn't blame Dakota for any of it. Except... that wasn't the point. Cavendish left him not knowing where he went, or why, or what he did to deserve being abandoned. Not knowing if he'd ever see him again.

Cavenkid snuffled in his sleep. Dakota pulled his towel straight without looking.

"You didn't have to leave."

"I know," Cavendish said quietly. "I'm sorry."

Dakota took a breath. "What I can't forgive," he said, slow and serious. "You never got me that burrito and I'm starving."

"Oh, please." He could tell Cavendish was as relieved as he was to get back to their natural state of arguing. "You're starving because he ate our takeout."

"Which reminds me, 'he' still doesn't have a name." Dakota thought for a moment, then went to their dresser to get a pack of cards. "Middle names, yours or mine. We'll draw for it."

"I didn't think you had a middle name," said Cavendish, doubtful.

Dakota drew the nine of diamonds with a flourish. "Sure I do. It's Da. Vinnie Da Kota, like Leonardo Da Vinci. You know, the guy who invented the pyramid-shaped parachute."

"That's not a name! Da Vinci simply means 'from Vinci'. Oh look, I win!" Cavendish turned up the queen of hearts.

Dollars to donuts he'd cheated, if Dakota could only tell how. But, fair enough he got to name his grandson, or the closest thing to one he'd ever have. "Fine, whatever. Timothy it is."

Cavendish frowned. "I'm sorry, why does the queen of hearts mean the child's name is Timothy?"

"Because it's your middle name?" Back when they became partners, 'Balthazar Timothy Cavendish' had stuck in Dakota's head as most likely the only such name in the world.

"What -- oh, I see." His frown cleared. "No, it isn't. That's an old clerical error that followed me to the Bureau. Took nearly ten cycles to get it corrected."

"Seriously?" Dakota was kind of floored. You think you know a guy. "So what's the T for if it's not Timothy?"

"Tarquin."

"...Huh," said Dakota. "Timmy dodged a bullet there."

As if reacting to his name, Timmy turned over. He teetered on the edge of the couch until Dakota caught him and eased him back. His hand brushed against Cavendish's outstretched hand. They tucked the kid in together.

"We should let him keep the towel," Cavendish said.

Dakota agreed. "Poor kid doesn't even have a sweater. Besides, I think he peed on it."

He wrote TIMMY on the towel's edge with a permanent marker. Cavendish hummed. "You don't think the child's father would like to have a say regarding his name?"

Dakota realized he forgot all about Cavenpus. His brain was trying to protect him.

"Nah," he said, reassuring. "As long as we didn't name him after a Star Wars bad guy it's all good."

Cavendish's eyebrows did a funny dance before settling on a scowl. "That's _Tarkin_ , with a K!"

"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that." Like the accent wasn't a dead giveaway.

Dakota's stomach notified him loudly he was still starving. "'Kay, who's gonna go get more takeout?" 

They drew cards again, and Cavendish won again like a total cheater. Oh well, Dakota was a better babysitter anyway.

"Don't forget my burrito! And maybe some toys. And another burrito. And... eh, I'll call you later." He made a mental note to change Cav's ringtone to the Imperial March first chance he got.

Alone in the office he ate the last sandwich cookies, Timmy's leftovers. He didn't bother to save any for Cavendish, knowing he'd only complain about the teeth marks. After that he tacked his zoo season passes and brochures to the wall above the couch, trying not to kneel on the kid while he worked. So many animals. He ought to buy a poster.

Timmy yawned and blinked a few times. Then he spotted the brochures. He sat straight up and did that thing with his eyes again, opening them wider and wider until they looked like they belonged on a bigger face. Dakota grinned at him.

"Hey Timmy, wanna sing the zoo song?"

-the end-


End file.
